i have no friends,
and that's not the sad part

i'm going to be alone
in the end,

walking home with no heart
filled with aliens and scars-
but that'll suffice;

there are stars in the sky
and that'll be enough
to keep me going,

as i look at the world
differently, now that i am;
apparently insane
temporarily in pain

momentarily in silence,
as the violence takes over
my infinite soul;

i count to three
and then it's four,

and then i rain,

the moment breaks
for somebody to open the door

and,
i have to go back in again
to let it all out,

and all i do is scream
and shout,

painting the walls with
my voice,
and inking the hollow
in my veins,

breeding calculations,
and bleeding my sane;

feeding hungry air
with what remains of me


reaching for the paint
so i can be a colorful ghost
when they see me howling,
at my gates,
through that one window
i could never break,

and i see,

between smiles and saints,
the miles, and the slain,
sitting by the fences
wearing a morning scent-

a night i couldn't wake
from.